I secretly installed twenty-six hidden cameras throughout my house, convinced that I was going to catch my nanny neglecting her homework

I secretly installed twenty-six hidden cameras throughout my house, convinced that I was going to catch my nanny neglecting her homework. By then, my heart had already frozen, hardened by a multi-billion empire and shattered by the sudden and devastating death of my wife. I thought I was protecting my children from a stranger. I had no idea that I was actually watching an angel fight a silent battle against my own family.
I watched my nanny to take her “doing nothing”… And I discovered a terrifying truth about my twins and the mother they lost.

My name is Damien Beaulieu. At forty-two, I seemed to be a man who had everything… until one night, the world goes silent. My wife, Aurélie, an internationally renowned cellist, died four days after giving birth to our twins, Mathis and Samuel. The doctors spoke of a “postpartum complication,” something that no one really knew how to explain.

I was left alone in a fifty million euro glass villa on the French Riviera, with two newborns and a pain so deep that every breath felt like I was drowning. Samuel was strong and healthy. Mathis, no. Her cries were high-pitched and rhythmic, like a siren that never goes out. His little body stiffened and his eyes rolled back in a way that made my blood run cold.
The specialist, Dr. Adrien Vela, dismissed this as “simple colic”.

My sister-in-law, Claire, had another explanation: that I was “emotionally distant” and that the children needed a “proper home environment.” What she really wanted was for me to hand over the guardianship to her in order to control the Beaulieu Fund.
Then Lina came into our lives.
The girl no one saw